“How old were you?”
“Fourteen. Almost fifteen.”
“Fourteen! Good Lord! How old was he?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Oh, no! You’re kidding!”
“No, I am not kidding.” I watched as she poured the water into a teapot with Constant Comment tea bags, sliced a lemon and dropped a piece into two empty cups while the bags brewed. “We used to sneak off to the beach and go for these long walks. It was the perfect romance.”
“Did you ever kiss him?”
“Are you kidding me? I kissed him until his lips were frayed around the edges! He was the best kisser in the world. Or at least I thought so at the time, but what did I know? Not much, let me tell you!”
“Holy moly, I can’t believe my mother walked the beach with some guy, kissing at fourteen years old! He was ancient!”
“I’m telling you this to let you know that I know what it feels like to be your age. But, Beth, I was probably indiscreet. I’m trying to teach you the value of discretion. Also, in my day, there was no AIDS, herpes or any of that stuff. And, you have to remember, we had no supervision. None. Momma was in a major fog, Daddy was dead and Livvie had her hands full.”
I cut a piece of cheddar cheese and ate it with a Ritz cracker.
“Did you do it with him?”
“Oh, my God! I can’t believe you’d ask me that! Of course not! Honey, I thought that sex sent you to hell forever! Plus, you could get pregnant! We never got close to anything like that. No, it was a lot of hand-holding and innocent kissing—okay, not so innocent—but never anything like the big one!”
“So what happened? I mean, how come you didn’t marry him?”
“Well, for starters, his father married my mother and it was just too weird. I went off to school and he left the country to do his residency in Asia and I never saw him again. I met your father, fell in love with him and Simon married some Asian babe. Plus, he really was too old for me.”
“I’d say so! If I came home with a twenty-one-year-old guy you’d lock me in my room!”
“Yeah, I sure would, but times were different then. People usually stopped short of the actual deed and took a cold shower or jumped in the ocean or something.”
“So, are you gonna see him again?”
“I hope so, although I’m not sure my nervous system can take it. I’m pretty old for this stuff.”
“You know what, Mom? You’re not old and you should have a boyfriend. Hey! Whatever happened to that Roger guy?”
“Oh, Roger, well, he’s around but he’s not for me. Wrong chemistry.”
“Oh. Well, who knows? Maybe you’ll get back together with Simon!” The phone rang again and she said, “Maybe it’s Chris!”
BY FRIDAY, THE seventeenth, I was prepared for not one but three parties. A mountain of wrapped packages were under our tree and my closet had two great new outfits, courtesy of Kim the Makeover Wonder’s advice. Beth and I had stopped in to see him out at the mall and when I told him I was going shopping for myself, he took me by the hand and said, “Not without me, you’re not.” No one respected my fashion sense.
Kim had decided I looked better in brown than black. He forced me to buy a brown cashmere sweater with a short brown velvet skirt. It was true. I looked better in brown. Then he made me buy a red crepe tank dress and fake diamond cluster earrings. I felt stupid with my arms all naked and phony diamonds but he and Beth said I looked great.
I asked him to go to the Post & Courier party, explaining that it was business, and he accepted.
“Dear heavens, Susan,” he said, “first of all, I’d go anywhere to get off the plantation, but a party with you in that red dress? I can’t wait to see the girls scratch your eyes out! Of course I’ll go, under one condition, however.”
“What?”
“You must let me blow out your hair first. Just what have you done to my haircut?”
And Maggie and Grant had invited me to a big bash for the Medical University faculty on Saturday.
“Maybe you’ll meet a doctor,” she said.
“Maybe I’ll see Roger,” I said.
“Oh, Lord, don’t worry about him, there’ll be a million people there.”
“Why should I worry? I’m not the pervert, he is.”
And the library was having a cocktail party on Sunday night for employees and their families. It would give me a chance to dunk Mitchell Fremont in the punch bowl. Yes, indeed, the holiday season, the last one of the Millennium, was in full swing and I was ready for it all.
When Friday night arrived, I was ready to deck the halls. Kim rang the doorbell and found me dressed in the red dress with my hair in a towel.
“Don’t you look like the most divine morsel!” he said.
“You look pretty deadly yourself,” I said.
We exchanged elaborate air kisses on both cheeks.
“Fabulous tree!” he said. “Next year we should let my Jeremy do it for you. He’s simply mad about old houses and decorating for Christmas! God, you still haven’t met him! We have to have you out to the plantation!”
“I’d love it!” I said. “Want a glass of wine?”
“No, darling, but thank you. Gotta watch my waistline, you know.”
He stood before the big mirror and admired himself. He wore a black Armani tuxedo that fitted him like an Italian glove. I couldn’t help thinking how this man tickled my funny bone. He was more concerned about his appearance than any woman I’d ever met.
“Great mirror,” he said.
“Strange mirror,” I said. “Come on, gorgeous, let’s dry my hair or we’re gonna be late.”
He made me change my pantyhose from sheer black to nude.
“Much sexier,” he said.
“Now I feel really naked,” I said.
“You look ravishing,” he said, and brushed my hair back and then rolled the sides toward my face. I attached the earrings and they twinkled out from beneath my hair.
“Damn,” I said, “I look good.”
“Almost as good as I do! Ha! Let’s go!”
We took my car to Max and Julia Hall’s historic house on the lower end of King Street. A polite older man in a white jacket opened the door and took my coat. The house was decorated for the holidays from one end to the other. A chamber music ensemble was playing Vivaldi in the living room. A hundred or so people dressed in holiday finery roamed the rooms, talking, smiling and helping themselves to the hors d’oeuvres being passed by tuxedoed waiters on silver platters. I looked around for Max and saw him in the far corner of the dining room, engaged in a private conversion with another man.
“Well, what do you think?” I said to Kim.
“If the caviar’s beluga, I’m staying all night. If they have weenies in pastry, we’re out of here by nine.”
“Guaranteed it’s beluga,” I said.
“Then you need a raise,” he said.
“You’re right!”
We wandered over to the bar and Kim got two glasses of champagne for us. “Dom,” he said, “not too shabby.”
We touched glasses and worked our way through the crowd toward the dining room. I didn’t recognize anyone from the paper, but that wasn’t surprising as I rarely went to the office except to drop off work. Everyone was smiling and I got a few good ogles from the older men. I smiled back at them, feeling pretty darn good.
“I saw that old man!” Kim said. “He positively leered at you! Shall I take him outside and challenge him to a duel?”
“Let’s eat first. I’m starving,” I said, smiling at Kim.
“Such a sensible girl you are,” he said.
Everything was so beautiful that I didn’t know where to look first. Julia Hall had placed full white poinsettias wrapped in gold foil on each step of her curved staircase in the center hall. Her dining room table had an exquisite centerpiece of white French tulips, long-stemmed white roses and corkscrew willow branches that had been spray-painted gold. The flowers were in a Chinese Export b
lue-and-white porcelain wine cooler that was probably worth a fortune.
At one end of the table, a chef was slicing filet mignon. Another chef sliced cold salmon at the other end. In between them were a pyramid of steaming baby lamb chops with a mint sauce for dipping, a platter of tiny pastrami sandwiches on rye bread and sliced turkey breast sandwiches in soft rolls.
“Try the lamb chops,” I said to Kim, “they’re yummy.”
I was beginning to feel like an intruder since no one had greeted us, just as Max looked up and saw me.
“Susan! Hi! You made it!” he said, coming over to me.
“Max! I want you to meet someone,” I said, and turned to Kim, who had his mouth filled with food. “This is Jack.”
Kim narrowed his eyes at me, chewing madly and wiping his hands on a napkin.
“Jack, ’eah? Well, I’ve heard all about you!” He laughed like an old bear and shook Kim’s hand up and down until I thought his arm would fly out of his shoulder socket. “Let me go find Julia! She’ll want to meet you right away! I think she’s in the kitchen fighting with the caterer. Some damn fool waiter was rude to a guest or something like that. Be right back!”
“Nice meeting you,” Kim said to Max’s back as he turned away. Then, turning to me, he said, “And who is Jack, may I ask?”
“Forget it. It wasn’t that funny the first time. Have some pastrami.”
We walked around the table to the seafood. Oysters on the half shell were in the center on a bed of ice with lobster claws on one side and a cascade of shrimp on the other. A silver chafing dish of hot crab dip and another of curried scallops flanked the whole affair.
“Lord,” Kim said, “this could be a Park Avenue soiree!”
“What are you talking about? We had a million parties like this when I was growing up. This is how we do it in the Holy City, honey chile.”
“You’re a terrible little liar,” he said, “and don’t expect this when you come to Tara. Our finger food sits on a Ritz until we replace the roof. And why do they call Charleston the Holy City anyway?”
“Well, about a billion years ago, when Charleston was a newborn baby, they called her the Holy City because so many different religions were practiced by the original settlers. Religious persecution brought them here from Europe.”
“Ah! And all this time I thought it was the potato famine,” he said.
“That was later,” I said, thinking that Kim might be eye candy but no Einstein. “Here comes Max.”
“Here we are at last! Susan, this is Julia!” Max said, elbowing his way to us.
I shook her hand and thought, so this is Mrs. Max Hall! I should look so good when I’m her age. Her hair was swept up in a twist and her beautiful pearl earrings were surrounded by glittering diamonds. Real ones.
“Hello, Susan, welcome! I have just enjoyed your column so much!”
“Thank you,” I said. “Your home is so beautiful and this is such a lovely party.” How inane could I be? “I’d like you to meet my friend Kim.”
“Hello,” she said, “do I know you?”
“Now we know each other, Mrs. Hall,” Kim said, taking her hand into both of his and holding them. “And what do you mean? What column?”
“Kim, dear man, don’t you know who you’re with?” Julia said.
“Well, I thought I did,” he said.
“She’s the Geechee Girl, son,” Max said. “Yep, that column has brought us more mail than any other column in ten years. Going into syndication too. Didn’t she tell you?”
“‘Geechee Girl Remembers’?” Kim said. “That’s you?”
“Guilty,” I said.
“Oh, my God! Wait until my Jeremy hears this! He reads every syllable to me on Thursdays at our breakfast table! It’s cappuccino, granola and Geechee! Every Thursday!”
Julia was a very nice lady and her friends flattered me to no end. Before the night was over, Kim had won the heart and hair of every woman there. Most importantly, Max knew a man wasn’t keeping me and that I still needed my job. All things considered, it was a successful night.
When we got home, Kim walked me to my door.
“Well, Susan, thanks for a wonderful night,” he said. “Gorgeous house, gorgeous party.”
“You are a character, do you know that?”
“I haven’t had so much fun in eons,” he said. “Old ladies love me. I can’t wait to get the plaster out of their hair.”
I was going to invite him in, but I’d had enough drama for one night.
“See ya, sweet cakes, thanks for coming with me,” I said. Through the window, I watched the grace with which he moved, as he opened the door to his Jaguar and slid behind the wheel. He made me feel glamorous.
I ARRIVED AT the Sheraton Hotel for the party Grant and Maggie had invited me to and scanned the crowd for Roger Dodds. I saw him across the ballroom at the bar. I felt like starting trouble.
“Roger, Roger, Roger! How are you?” I said, looking very smart in my brown V-neck cashmere sweater and short skirt. Nude stockings, don’t forget the nude stockings, and high heels. He was deceivingly conservative in his dark suit, white shirt and red foulard bow tie.
“Susan! What a nice surprise!”
He gave me a light kiss on the cheek and looked me up and down. Thank God my shoes have closed toes, I thought.
“Are you here with someone?” I said.
“No, I’m alone. God, you have great legs.”
“Yes, I do. Thank you.” The Rivieras were playing “Double Shot of My Baby’s Love.”
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
“Sure, a cocktail would be great,” I said.
“Feeling naughty, are we? White wine?”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the glass.
“God, you’re driving me crazy already,” he said.
“Oh! There’s Maggie and Grant! I have to go, Roger. Sorry. See you!”
“What, you’re leaving me? Why?”
“I have a date,” I lied, “and I have to go home. The truth is that I had a pedicure this afternoon. They scraped my feet just a little too close for these pumps. Then they massaged them with some oil that smells like coconut and fruit and they sting a little. They’re very tender, Roger. Very pink, soft and tender.”
“Come on, Susan, don’t tell me this,” he said.
“Yeah, I came with this guy who’s a podiatrist. He says I need to get off my feet.”
“Sounds like he wants to take you to bed and screw you.”
“Gosh? Think so? Gee. That would be nice. Well, Merry Christmas, Roger.”
I smiled at him and walked over to Grant and Maggie.
“Mission accomplished,” I whispered to Maggie. “Great party, Grant, thanks for inviting me.”
“You leaving already?” Grant said.
“Yeah, got a hot date with a young one,” I said.
At home, my hot young one, Beth, and I curled up like two old friends on the couch and watched It’s a Wonderful Life for the zillionth time. We shared popcorn, Cokes and tissues, saying the dialogue in perfect sync with the actors. We were perfectly content.
AT THE LIBRARY party Mitchell Fremont told me with great sadness that he was taking a job in Spartanburg.
“When?” I said.
“In two weeks,” he said. “I guess that’s it for the two of us.”
“Yeah, guess so, Mitchell.”
There was no end to his arrogance. After he walked away I realized that his departure put me in line for his job, which if it happened would mean a substantial raise. I knew they’d have to interview other candidates but I put my name in the hat right away. It was a pretty boring party, but I used the time to lobby for Mitchell’s position.
I called Maggie the next day to tell her the news.
“God, I hope you get his job,” she said.
“Yeah, me too.”
“By the way, what on earth did you say to Roger Dodds?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“He came o
ver to Grant all befuddled and said you made him crazy.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I said.
“You won’t believe what Grant said.”
“What?”
“Grant said to him, ‘Well, Roger, my sister-in-law is the kind of gal that keeps you on your toes, isn’t she?’ I almost choked trying not to laugh.”
“Good Lord.”
ON MONDAY, I woke up earlier than usual. I couldn’t sleep. At six o’clock, I finally pulled on a bathrobe and went downstairs to make coffee. I had had the strangest dream the night before. I was alone in the backyard of the Island Gamble with Livvie. Livvie and I were hanging laundry on the clothesline. We had baskets of sheets, all of them white. She kept saying, “Look at these, Miss Susan! So many white sheets!” We just kept hanging them and hanging them and there was no end to them. They stretched the length of our yard and I knew that they would cover the entire length of the Island by the time we were done. The more I hung, the more there seemed to be. We used the old-fashioned wooden clothespins to attach them. “Keep hanging!” she called out to me. I was so tired in my dream—I just wanted to stop and rest for a while. But Livvie was so determined to hang them all that I kept working.
Sipping my mug of hot coffee I kept going over the dream in my head. What did it mean? Was it about work? Certainly it seemed like my work never ended. I knew that dreams had symbols but I didn’t know much about them. What was all the white about? Peace? Purity? Who would use all those sheets? A hospital? Then it came to me. The Klan. Bingo!
I left my coffee mug on the counter and ran up the stairs as fast as I could. Beth was still sleeping and was out of school for the Christmas break. I opened her door.
“Beth? I’m going to the office; if you need me call me, okay?”
“Okay, Momma. What time is it?”
“Early. Go back to sleep.”
BY THE TIME I showered and dressed and drove to the library, it was almost quarter of eight. Mitchell usually came in at eight. I waited, smoking and pacing, for his car to pull up in the parking lot. Finally he arrived.
“Good morning, Susan,” he said, “early bird for a reason?”
“Yeah, I have something I want to look up.”